


Deep in This Sleeplessness

by TheThirdTemptationOfParis



Series: The Who Do You Love Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdTemptationOfParis/pseuds/TheThirdTemptationOfParis
Summary: The night Sherlock came back was a challenge, to say the least.





	

The night Sherlock came back was a challenge, to say the least. John had been waiting, and waiting, and waiting. And then waiting some more. Endless waiting because he knew, he knew, that if he waited long enough, Sherlock would come back. Walk into the door of the flat in some grandiose way, and their lives, their love, would return to normal. Boy, was he wrong.

Sherlock fell into the flat, almost two years to the day after he left. It was half twelve and John had been standing by the door, willing it to open, just like every night before. He didn’t expect anything from it. But this night, the door opened. And suddenly he found Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, absolute genius, and the love of John Watson’s life, on his knees in the doorway to the flat with his arms wrapped tightly around John’s waist, his face buried in his jumper.

His hair was long and his face was gaunt. His shoulders stuck out from his back, and they were shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry. I never meant-- Moriarty was going to-- John can you ever forgive me?”

John took a breath and got down on his own knees in front of the near shadow of the man Sherlock used to be. He took that always striking face in his hands, caught the frantic verdigris eyes, and held them. “You’re alive, Sherlock. Nothing else matters but that. Nothing. Right now, I don’t care about why you’ve been away so long, I don’t care about Moriarty, I don’t even care that your hair is halfway down your back. You’re safe, and alive, and whole, love. That’s all I care about.”

Sherlock broke again, crying into John’s neck. John rubbed his back, feeling ever knob of his spine. Too skinny. Way too skinny. John wrapped him up in his arms, lifted him from the floor, and carried him to the loo, sitting him gently on the edge of the tub. Sherlock didn’t look at him, possibly fearing anger. John crouched again, a hand coming to Sherlock’s jaw line, “Where?” he asked softly. Sherlock pointed to his back. John nodded. “Shirt off for me, love. Carefully.” 

Sherlock moved slowly and John turned to the cabinet under the sink to pull out the first aid kit. When he turned back, Sherlock had turned to through his legs into the inside of the tub, shirt off, back facing John. He grit his teeth. Lash after lash after lash. Nine tails, crop, pipe, deep and shallow alike, some still bleeding slightly. He would hunt down every last man on Earth that dared lay a hand on the man before him if they hadn’t already been taken care of. 

He set his anger aside, placing a light hand on Sherlock’s waist after soaking a clean flannel in antiseptic, “This’ll sting, and I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.” Sherlock nodded, not daring to speak. John set to work, cleaning every wound as precisely as he could, as carefully as he could, wincing when Sherlock did. When all was said and done, John placed his forehead in a spot void of wounds and just breathed. His arms wound around Sherlock’s slightly trembling form, his hands finding their way to his beating heart. Confirmation. John wasn’t dreaming. Despite the bite of antiseptic, Sherlock smelled just like John remembered. A scent that had long ago left their bed, but still drifted through the flat like a ghost. He felt those elegant hands entwine with his, almost nothing but skin and bone, and John swallowed a sob.

“If I wake up to find this is a dream, I won’t know what to do. Please, tell me this is real.” John said, and Sherlock lifted one of his hands to his mouth, kissing the palm then the wrist.

“It’s real, I promise you. John?” Sherlock whispered.

“Yes, bee?”

“Can we…?” he trailed off, but John understood.

“Of course. Turn around for me?”

Sherlock complied, wrapping his arms around John’s neck, but a crease formed between his brows, which John kissed away. He scooped his arms under Sherlock’s knees and back gingerly and lifted him. The detective in turn held him a bit tighter and leaned into his shoulder, “I am capable of walking, John.” he said, voice dripping faux indignance.

“I know. Just another comfort for me, love.” John replied as they reached the bedroom. 

John deposited Sherlock carefully into the bed and climbed in next to him, wrapping him lightly up in his arms, “Sleep, bee. Lord knows you need it.” Sherlock looked up, a question in his eyes, “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

***

John didn’t sleep that night. He kept a watch on Sherlock, to make sure he was still breathing, making sure he was comfortable, and to make sure he was asleep. It didn’t take long for the nightmares to find him, though. But contrary to John’s original thought, he didn’t call out about the unspeakable things that happened to him while he was away, he called out for John. He called out for John not to leave him. John roused him carefully.

“Love, sh, sh, sh. It’s alright. I’m right here.” Sherlock’s grip on John tightens as he opens his eyes, unfocused and terrified.

“John? Please, don’t go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sherlock spout, wide eyes searching the dark.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. Look at me.” Sherlock did, calming slightly, “It was just a dream, love. Whatever I said there? It wasn’t real. Remember what I told you in the beginning?” Sherlock nodded, “I’m yours. For as long as you want me.”

“Then I’ll have you forever. Forever, John.” Sherlock said, coming into himself more.

“Then forever is how long I’ll stay. Now what do you need from me, love? To make you feel better, safer?”

Sherlock pondered the question for a moment before responding, “Lay down fully and just hold me close? Envelope me. I need to know you’re there.”

And that’s just what John did. He laid down and pulled Sherlock close to his chest, whispering, “I love you, I need you. I will always need you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Sleep, bee, and I promise I’ll be here when you wake. I’ll always be here when you wake. Even if you can’t sleep, I’ll be here.”

Sherlock drifted off to the sound of John’s voice in his ear, the perfect reminder that he was really home. John slipped into the best sleep he’d had in years to the sound of Sherlock’s breath. Broken as they may have been, there, both men were finally whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr? [](maryisnotsorry.tumblr.com>maryisnotsorry</a>)


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